Do You Know?
by kkscatnip
Summary: Separate-bodied Hallelujah/Allelujah. Penetration with foreign object, dubious consent.  Why is there no Hallelujah character tag?


For the S2 Kink Meme. Prompt: _Separate-bodied Hallelujah/Allelujah. Bonus points for any kind of bizarre sexual idiosyncrasies. _

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"Do you know what that is?" Hallelujah's voice is so dangerously close to sexy that Allelujah whimpers, shaking his head. He doesn't know what's pressing against his ass, except that it's cool and it's metal. And cylindrical. "Guess."

"A g-gun?" he stutters out, hating the way his voice trips over the word. It's not as if he _wants_ to be fucked by a gun, it's just that the idea. Unsettles him. That's all it is.

"You would be so lucky," Hallelujah murmurs, tongue flicking over Allelujah's earlobe. Allelujah bites back another whimper. "Guess again."

"A.. ah..." Allelujah trails off, mind hitching as unpleasantly as his breath when Hallelujah tilts the object on its end. The unnatural smoothness is replaced by the roughness of a grip of some sort which shoves right out the guess of 'pipe' he was going to go with next.

Hallelujah's teeth sink into Allelujah's earlobe. "That's _not_ guessing, you."

Allelujah's heart rate doubles as he hangs his head, dragging in deep breaths to try and regain some semblance of composure. Enough to formulate some sort of adequate guess for what in the world Hallelujah is going to fuck him with.

Because there's no doubt in his mind: Hallelujah _is_ going to fuck him with it. Whatever it is.

Whether he guesses it or not.

"Tell you what," Hallelujah says, moving the cylinder in a slow circle, showing Allelujah that the grip goes all the way around. "If you guess it, I'll let you come."

Allelujah opens his mouth to say something but cuts off into a moan as Hallelujah's fingernails dig painfully into his balls. It hurts, it hurts, not even in a good way, it _hurts_.

"And don't you even start thinking you'll enjoy it unless I damn well want you to."

Shivering unpleasantly in his bonds, Allelujah jerks his head in a quick up-and-down movement that he hopes passes for a nod. He doesn't trust himself to speak, not until - Hallelujah releases his grip on Allelujah's balls, massaging them almost kindly as he does.

"There, there. I suppose I should give you _some_ encouragement."

And hints, Allelujah thinks. Please, if anyone is listening-let Hallelujah give some hints.

"I think..." Hallelujah slides the object upward, less and less touching Allelujah's skin until only the end of it is pressing at Allelijah's entrance. Allelujah wishes he could stop shivering-it would make it so much easier to concentrate-but the likelihood of that is slim to none. Not when he can still feel Hallelujah leaning over him, bonds he tied holding Allelujah firmly in place. "You will describe what you feel to me, Allelujah."

"One end is flat," Allelujah says quickly, the first thing he can think of. "It's a cylinder-about... three centimeters. In diameter."

Hallelujah lays the object down across the curve of Allelujah's back; Allelujah gasps, although he's not sure whether it's relief or something else.

"A-about. Forty centimeters in length. H-heavy. Metal. Wider at-the other end. With a grip, and, is that... a button? Near the other end? And... " Allelujah's breath dies in his throat. He knows what it is.

"And?" Hallelujah prompts, with a tone that matches the maniacal grin no doubt spreading across his face.

Allelujah whimpers, struggling against the bonds, shaking his head. "No, no, no, _Hallelujah_, you're not going to fuck me with a _flashlight_."

Why is his cock throbbing? Why isn't he breaking free? He's a gundam meister, specially trained to get out of these type situations, but he can't make himself just-get away-the same way he can't make the dizzying arousal just go away.

"I'm not?" Hallelujah's voice is deceptively soft and his strong fingers dig into the sides of Allelujah's neck in a way that doesn't dampen his arousal at all. "I think I am. _And_ I think you're going to beg me to."

Allelujah wants to say no, he won't, but he knows himself too well and even more than that he knows Hallelujah too well. He will beg for it. And he will love begging for it. And he will hate himself for loving begging for it. And-

"Get on with it, Allelujah."

Allelujah whimpers deep in his throat, wondering absently if he's capable of making any other sound. Probably not.

"I won't," he murmurs. Token resistance. It's no fun if he just-

Hallelujah's fingers loosen their grip, and then slide away. Hallelujah pulls away entirely, in fact, leaving nothing but a sinking, unpleasant feeling aloneness in his place.

"Hallelujah!" Allelujah hisses, trying to look over his shoulder, only to have a palm come down hard, fingers spread wide, on his cheek. He gasps at the impact, eyes going wide.

Cock jumping. "H-halle-"

"Beg me," Hallelujah says. No, orders. That voice, low, heavy with the threat of everything he can do and strenghened by the knowledge that Allelujah can't possibly enjoy all of it.

"Please!" Allelujah says-shouts-over anything else Hallelujah might say.

Hallelujah's fingers rest lightly on one side of his ass, silently approving.

"I, I." Oh, he's off to a fabulous start. Absolutely fantastic, absolutely- "Ohyesplease," he gasps, when Hallelujah's fingers move ever so slightly inward, toward the cleft of his ass.

"Please, what?"

"Please, _sir_," Allelujah says, licking his lips. "Please finger me. I want to feel-you. I want-"

"What makes you think I care about what a slut like you _wants_?" Hallelujah asks, voice so casually uncaring that Allelujah can't help but enjoy it.

"I _need_, I would delight to feel, I would _love_ to-" Allelujah's voice shakes a little, not much but. Just a little.

Hallelujah slaps him again. "What about what I want?"

"Idon'tknowwhatyouwant," Allelujah says all in one breath, words spilling out at nearly incomprehensible speed.

"Don't you?" There's a hazardous quality to Hallelujah's voice.

Allelujah, whether or not he is capable of doing the things Hallelujah does, knows what Hallelujah wants. The same way that Hallelujah knows what Allelujah _doesn't_ want.

"I-I-I, you want. To fuck me."

"How?" One word-one wave of arousal, washing over Allelujah's senses but only leaving him dirtier in its wake.

"With the flashlight."

"The flashlight. So you want me to fuck you with it?"

"Yes," Allelujah hisses, drawing the word out.

"Do you want prep first?"

Allelujah is not, not, _not_ arching back against Hallelujah's touch, not with the cool metal replacing warm fingers, except the part where he is, and the part where he thinks he might come just like this, weight of the flashlight pressing against his entrance.

Does he want _prep_ oh god does he want does he "No!"

"Your funeral," Hallelujah says, and Allelujah's world becomes pain.

Bright red pain, blinding and binding him as well as the rope-better, because he's helpless against it. He can't breathe at first, can't do anything but bury his face in the pillows and feel and feel and feel.

Then he screams. Hallelujah laughs.

He's not even moving it. Just letting it stay where it is, pressed inside of him. Stretching him. Hurting him.

"M-m-m-" Allelujah tries, but can't.

Hallelujah can. "More?"

Allelujah just shakes.

"Silence is assent."

It is, oh it _is_.

* * *

Allelujah wakes up to the echo of screams inside his head and wetness coating the crotch of his pajama pants.

He pants, rolling onto his stomach, eyes squeezing shut. Hallelujah will never be completely gone. Despite the ghost of pain in his abdomen, he's not sure that he's upset by that.


End file.
